


Suck and Let Go

by slashy (slashmyheartandhopetoporn)



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-08
Updated: 2014-11-08
Packaged: 2018-02-24 13:46:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2583566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slashmyheartandhopetoporn/pseuds/slashy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Annalise is lonely, and she's honest enough with herself to admit that. She watches Wes carefully check his reflection in the hallway mirror before they head off to meet with clients, and she sees him flirt with secretaries and admin assistants in order to get on their good sides. She doesn't miss the way Wes easily slips from wide-eyed puppy to sharp-toothed wolf as if he were changing coats.</p><p>She can't help but think that Wes is the last thing she needs and everything she craves, and she wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Suck and Let Go

**Author's Note:**

> The always fantabulous SnackerJack (perianfrost on Tumblr) helped guide this little fic along. She's the bees' knees, y'all.
> 
> Also, this takes place in some sort of strange future where everything worked out more or less, and no one I like ended up in jail.

She knows she hasn't been very subtle over the time they've known one another, and that's all right with her. Subtly has never really been Annalise's thing. So it doesn't feel like too much of a bother to have Frank track Wes down after the dust has settled and return back to her with his new address.

He's living in another shitty apartment, except this time it's further away from campus. She has no idea what he's doing with his life--where he's working or if he's working at all. She has no guarantee that he's even at home. When she knocks on the door, it takes Wes so long to open up that she begins to think he's not in after all.

When he does finally appear--apparently unsurprised by her arrival--he's wearing his usual plaid, jeans still skinnier than Annalise finds completely necessary.

"I thought you might have been in the shower," she says, voice steady, eyes trained on his own.

Wes doesn't react to the comment. "What do you want?" is all he says.

"To come in, for one thing," she answers.

Wes slowly steps aside, though not completely, and as Annalise turns to edge past him sideways, she feels her chest brush against his with an almost torturous  _drag_.

"You're in now," Wes says after he shuts the door. "What else did you want?"

"Do you have a thing for shit-hole apartments?" Annalise asks as she runs a finger along the top of his dresser.

"I have a thing for saving money," Wes replies.

"You could come work for me and never have to worry again."

Wes laughs coldly. "After everything, you really want to offer me a job?"

"Why not? It's not like you're not smart enough for it. Driven enough. Manipulative enough."

"I don't want to work for you, Annalise," Wes says firmly.  
  
Annalise saunters towards the bed, hands sliding along the stretch of wall above his mattress. "No claw marks this time," she notes, ignoring Wes completely.

"You want to help me make some?" Wes snaps.

Annalise lifts an eyebrow.

+

Annalise expects an inordinate amount from the people around her. But the thing Annalise expects the most--rather, the thing Annalise demands the most--is loyalty.

She's learned that Wes can be  _very_  loyal. The question, of course, is whether he's entirely loyal to her.

+

When he begins work at the firm, it's clear that Frank and Bonnie are displeased to say the least.

Bonnie smiles nastily. "Not glad to see you again, Puppy."

Wes smiles. Nods. He still likes Bonnie, despite his admittedly lukewarm friendship with Asher.

Frank looks near to bursting, but remains silent. Wes does not like Frank, and that is absolutely because of his camaraderie with Laurel.

Wes smiles again. Nods. He doesn't need them to like him. He has Annalise on his side.

The house is more or less the same, though the wall paper in the bedroom has changed for a second time. Wes walks into the living room and can't stop the wistful sigh. His Keating Five days were perhaps not always the most pleasant, but god were they exhilarating. He doesn't miss Michaela or Connor, and he has no nostalgic-tinged feelings regarding what it was like to suffer Asher. But he and Laurel had had fun, and there had always been a sort of deliciously desperate energy when the five of them found themselves once more cooped up in Annalise's living room. He misses that, and not even Sam's murder can tarnish those memories.

Frank finally recovers the power of speech in the middle of Wes' private reverie. "We haven't forgotten what happened," he spits.

Wes shrugs. "As if any of us could forget."

"Are you going to try to fuck her?" Frank is seething, hands curling into fists, face red.

"I'm right here, Frank," says Annalise, voice sharp.

But Wes is silent. He walks across the room to where Annalise is shooting Frank daggers, and directs her attention towards himself.

His words are for Frank, but he doesn't break eye contact with Annalise. "I'm going to try to do whatever Annalise wants."

Annalise smiles, small and sly. He can tell she wants a lot.

+

Wes knows in his bones that Annalise Keating is the ultimate woman. He knows it like nothing else.

But he also knows that for all the she is vicious and adamantine, she is still in equal parts frail and uncertain, prone to settling for shit when she should have gold.

Good thing Wes has a thing for lost causes.

+

Annalise has no illusions about the game she's about to embark on with Wes, but she knows Bonnie doubts her awareness.

"You bring out the worst in each other," Bonnie says quietly one night after everyone else has left the house.

"After all these years," Annalise replies calmly, "you still insist on offering me your unsolicited and unwelcome opinions about my personal life. Would you like to have Wes for yourself now, too?"

Bonnie doesn't flinch, because she used to Annalise's cruelty by now, but Annalise can still tell the mark lands where she meant it to.

"I think Wes is dangerous. For you, for this firm. He's not going to save you, even if he thinks that's what he's doing. You don't need saving, Annalise."

Annalise stands from her desk where she had been grading papers for class. 

"Who says I want him to save me, Bonnie? Might it have occurred to you that Wes is the one who needs guidance?"

"And, what, you plan to provide it with your pussy?"

Annalise laughs, a hollow sound. "If only he'd be so lucky."

+

Annalise is lonely, and she's honest enough with herself to admit that. She watches Wes carefully check his reflection in the hallway mirror before they head off to meet with clients, and she sees him flirt with secretaries and admin assistants in order to get on their good sides. She doesn't miss the way Wes easily slips from wide-eyed puppy to sharp-toothed wolf as if he were changing coats.

She can't help but think that Wes is the last thing she needs and everything she craves, and she  _wants_.

+

"You should consider working for a non profit," Laurel tells him over coffee.

"Annalise would kill me."

Laurel snorts. "She's got you on some leash."

Wes shrugs. "She's lonely."

"It's not your responsibility to fix."

"I want to, though. I'm lonely too."

A sigh. "I really don't think you'll be good for one another."

Wes is unmoved. He sips his coffee. "Frank says hi."

"No he doesn't," says Laurel warily. "Don't be such an ass."

"Asher says hi as well," Wes says, smiling slightly. Laurel knows him too well.

"Now that I believe," replies Laurel. "Why are you still in contact with him again?"

"He's come a long way, I think," he offers. Laurel narrows her eyes. "He's also incredibly powerful and dripping in contacts. It makes sense for the firm."

"Yeah, but you were staying friendly with him even before you started working for Keating again."

Wes takes another drink of coffee. "I guess I just think Asher is the most lonely one of all of us. And I don't think he deserves that loneliness."

Laurel doesn't have anything to say to that.

+

Wes hasn't seen Annalise without makeup since that first time, and he's waiting for the day that version of her will reappear. He likes her when she's put together, but he loves her when she's coming apart.

He's unacceptably jealous that Sam used to see her like that all the time. He feels a small sliver of satisfaction that Sam is long since dead.

+

Annalise has a lot of hang ups about sex. She can't remember the last time she fucked anyone just because she wanted to, because it felt good.

She watches Wes' muscles shift under his tight-fitting button downs, can't keep her eyes off his exposed forearms after the sleeves have been rolled up at the end of another too-long, still-not-over day. He catches her watching every time. She never bothers to look away.

The first time that they find themselves alone in Annalise's house is also the first time they end up having sex.

Annalise is drinking a glass of wine; Wes is organizing paperwork for their upcoming trial.

"So, has working with us turned out to be as bad as you anticipated?" she asks eventually, voice thick with wine and the exhaustion she so rarely allows herself to show.

Wes continues to shuffle through his documents. "I haven't decided yet."

Annalise can't help but scoff. "I never did understand why you were so opposed to joining the firm in the first place."

Wes sighs. "Annalise, you may not have realized this, but you are incredibly difficult to work with."

She lets her head roll onto her shoulder. "Tell me how I can make it easier," she asks quietly.

Finally Wes puts down the papers and looks Annalise straight in the eye. "Be honest about what you want from me." Annalise lifts her head and holds Wes' gaze, but she stays silent. "All you have to do is ask, Annalise."

She opens her mouth to speak.

+

In the bedroom Annalise likes to have control. Likes to tell Wes what to do. Likes to take his head and force it where she wants it. Likes to bite into his shoulder, scratch down his back, pull at his hair. Wes gives so beautifully and so completely.

Sometimes she doubts his sincerity, but when they're done with sex and he's got his limbs wrapped loosely around hers, his mouth pressed lightly against the back of her neck, she can't help but trust the affection of the gesture.

+

It takes Annalise weeks before she's comfortable letting Wes see her without makeup and the wig.

"I don't find you unattractive without all your feminine trappings, you know," Wes says one morning while Annalise is getting ready.

Annalise continues to apply her makeup.

Wes keeps talking. "I mean, I don't find you unattractive _with_ all your feminine trappings either."

"So you're trying to tell me you find me attractive all of the time?" Annalise asks wryly as she adjusts her wig.

Wes smiles at her softly. "Not just attractive but wildly, frustratingly beautiful." When Annalise doesn't respond, Wes huffs. "This is the part where you tell me you also find me wildly, frustratingly beautiful."

Annalise snorts. "I find you wildly, frustratingly sycophantic."

He groans. "Annalise, baby, it's too early for words that big. Also, ouch."

He watches Annalise finish up getting ready for her day, though he still lazes about in bed.

"You look nice," he tells her, and he means it. Annalise stands from her dressing table and walks over to kiss Wes gently on the forehead. Then she exits the room.

She does look especially nice today, and Wes can't help but wonder if there's someone she's trying to impress more than usual. He's never considered that Annalise may cheat on him, but the idea occurs to him now.

He doesn't let himself think too much about it.

+

Wes has never minded the way Annalise and her team call him "puppy." He can see the resemblance. He knows he's perhaps more earnest and enthusiastic than most people, and he's loyal to those who've earned it.

Sometimes the way Bonnie uses the nickname gets under his skin. But the way Annalise uses it while in bed...well, then it gets under his skin in a wholly different way.

+

Frank walks in to the kitchen to grab a beer while Annalise sips a glass of scotch at the island.

"I can't tolerate working with him anymore," Frank finally says.

"You're going to have to," she replies.

"He brought up Laurel today."

She sighs. "Frank, she's still his friend, however much we may not like it. We can't keep him from talking about his friends outside of work."

Frank slams his bottle onto the counter. "You don't understand--I cannot keep seeing that asshole on a regular basis."

Annalise yells, "Then it would seem your only option is to leave," and it's her raised voice that indicates just how stressed she really is to be having this conversation.

"You saying if it came down to it I'd be out of a job here?" asks Frank, hands tightening around the bottle.

Annalise looks at Frank, expression hard and unforgiving. "I'm saying you're both family now, so you better find a way to make it work."

"Annalise--" Frank begins, but she interrupts.

"Frank, don't you dare argue with me on this. He's not going anywhere. And you're not either."

"You don't get to dictate my life," Frank snaps.

Annalise's voice rises again. "So now you  _want_  to leave?"

Frank throws his beer bottle into the sink, and the bottle shatters. "I wan't him fucking GONE!"

But then Wes is there in the kitchen with them. "My ears were burning."

Frank swears and stalks out of the room. Annalise gives Wes an irritated look. "Get out of my sight, Gibbins."

+

Laurel is not welcome in their home. Somehow she is the only other one of the Keating Five that Wes has chosen to stay in regular contact with (though he's in infrequent contact with Asher, of all people, as well), and they're irritatingly close. Though she desperately wants to, she doesn't believe Wes when he says there's nothing between he and Laurel besides platonic friendship. He swears otherwise. Whispers in her ear while they're fucking that she's the only one. Licks up her neck and down her cunt, slips his fingers inside her mouth, her pussy. Says  _It's only you, always_.

She loves this man, but sometimes he's the least trustful person she thinks she's ever known.

+

When Wes eventually decides to leave the firm, Annalise throws the greatest of fits. They're in the kitchen when Wes can't deny the urge to tell her any longer, and Annalise breaks both the plates she had taken out for dinner, and one of the wine glasses. She screams at Wes about betrayal and responsibility while Frank and Bonnie pretend not to hear the fight, despite the fact that they're in the living room only a few yards away.

Wes knows there's not a point to arguing with her, but he can't stop himself from screaming right back at Annalise anyway.

"I'm tired of protecting people who don't deserve it!" he yells.

"And you think working for the prosecution will help you do the opposite? Don't get all high and mighty on me now!" Annalise yells back. "Let's not forget Rebecca so soon, shall we?"

"Are you ever going to let that go?" Wes asks, exasperated.

" _She killed my husband_ ," Annalise snarls.

"Your husband killed one of his students."

There's silence after that. Wes knows that objectively Annalise understands how vile her husband was. But she needed him. Loved him. And Wes needs and loves Annalise, so he's always let her have her deep-down denial about the truth of Sam Keating. But he can't overlook Sam's particularly disturbing flaws at the moment. Not when Annalise is throwing Rebecca in his face like yesterday's trash.

"Get out," Annalise finally demands, voice low.

"Is that what you really want?" asks Wes.

Annalise breaks the second wine glass. "I don't fucking know, Wes. Is that what you want me to say?"

"I want you to say the truth," Wes says, and he's yelling again before he can stop himself.

"I never want you to leave!" Annalise shouts, and she's crying now, tears streaming down her face, eyeliner running down her cheeks.

Wes walks up to her, takes her face in his hands and tilts her head back to look up at him, and wills her to believe, "I'm not leaving  _you_."

+

He calls her "baby," and depending on her mood and his tone, the endearment either makes Annalise's toes curl with pleasure or her stomach twist with distress.

It's a very malleable expression of affection, the word "baby," and Wes knows how to meld the two syllable word into a weapon of cruel condescension that plays on her deep-seated and elaborately hidden self-doubt.

But Wes also knows just how to curl the word into an instrument of pure and unflinching affection that warms Annalise like her favorite cup of coffee, straight out of the pot and waiting for her first thing in the morning.

+

In bed, the way Wes' body has filled out becomes the most obvious.

"We're getting older," Annalise says. And it's a sensitive point for her, their age difference, though she desperately wishes it were not.

Wes knows somehow, of course. He turns to her in bed, tilts her unmade face towards him, and kisses her lips gently. His tongue traces her bottom lip before he pulls away.

"Not too old," he says.

Annalise wonders how much of the action is pure desire and how much is calculated to make her feel desirable. She's found that just about everything Wes does is calculated.

It's not always a bad thing.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This ship is so important to me for reasons I can't express well. I tried with this fic.
> 
> Title from a Peaches song.
> 
> Find me on Tumblr! http://slashmyheartandhopetoporn.tumblr.com/


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